When I die, stick me in a soup can
by icefire-lioness
Summary: Preferably Campbell’s. Sirius Black reflects on his friend’s death. Paper Bartholomew was such a GOOD individual.


AN: Hello! This is just a one-shot ficlet (not short enough for drabble, but pretty short all the same) and Sirius and the other Marauders, as you may have noticed, are the same ones as in 'There's a Black Hole In You Bedroom, Jamesie' - notable only really for the mention of the Spellotape™ monster. I hope you like it!

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Angst was probably a good way to describe it. Yes, that was most definitely what Sirius Black was feeling. Angst.

It's always a terrible thing when a good friend dies, and Sirius had just had to deal with the death of one of his closest. No, it wasn't easy.

He wiped a tear from his eye, watching as the tiny coffin was lowered into the earth by James and Remus. Peter was watching them sadly, and shovelled the first layer of dirt on top.

There was a moment of silence, and then Sirius poked sadly at the record player with his wand, upon which it started up a mournful dirge.

The Marauders stood over the grave, heads lowered solemnly, while Sirius delivered his eulogy.

"He was a fine individual, Paper Bartholomew. All who knew him loved him. So that pretty much means that we four, the marauders, true of heart and soul, loved him."

He shook his fist angrily at the sky, overcome with emotion.

"I can't believe you took him! He had so long! It was too soon! We shouldn't be the only ones who loved him. The _whole world_ should have known…"

He choked back an angry sob and turned back to the small gravesite.

"We had a good time, Paper Bartholomew and I. He knew…he knew how to make me smile."

There was a pause in which Sirius took the chance to breathe deeply and attempt not to cry.

"The times we shared – oh, they were _good _times! How we laughed! Well, I laughed. He couldn't actually make any noise. No vocal chords, you know. It comes with being paper."

James heroically held back a snort, but nearly lost his eyeballs in the battle. Sirius, thinking that he too was overcome with emotion, patted him gently on the shoulder.

"We'll all miss him, Prongs. I know you'll take it awfully hard. You had that special bond. Yes, I saw it," he said soothingly, as James looked baffled.

"The way you talked to him. It was clear the feelings you had for Paper Bartholomew, and I was proud of your bravery in not letting them get in the way of your friendship."

Remus, not as heroic as James, apparently, fell onto the ground, gasping for air. Sirius mistook this for anguish and rubbed his back soothingly.

"It's ok, Moony. You're taking it hard, I know, but soon we'll be able to think of Paper Bartholomew as someone who made us happy, not just as someone who was cruelly ripped from the earth. Even though he was. Now, let's have a minute of silence in memory of PB. Think of his little inky eyes, that ever-smiling mouth, the energetic way he moved through life. Remember the porridge he threw at us in the early hours of the morning; the time he got into your underwear drawer and gave you all paper cuts; the day he woke us all up at two in the morning with the clashing of those great big cymbals! Remember all the good times! Remember the four days we had with him, and rejoice!"

Peter had kept a straight face throughout this, but the last sentence seemed to be too much, and he burst into giggles which even Sirius could not mistake for anguished cries.

Sirius glared coldly at Peter, and then at Remus and James, who were sprawled on the ground, laughing heartily.

He leant down over the grave, ignoring his friends, and picked up the coffin made from a Campbell's soup can. Pulling out the little paper cut out body of his friend, Sirius whispered to Paper Bartholomew as though he could still hear him.

"You might only have been a cut out doll that was accidentally bought to life with the same spell that the Spellotape™ monster was, but you provided me with hours of fun. _And_ you were waterproof. I'll never forget you, Paper Bartholomew."

And with that, he re-buried his favourite paper friend and walked back up to the castle, kicking his three (still giggling) friends in the heads as he went.

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AN: Well, what did you think? Funny? Absolutely idiotic? Tell me! Also, I just thought I should probably tell you so that I'm not accused of plagiarism or something equally yucky, this flash-fic was inspired by something I read ages ago (another HP fan-fic) which was the same idea, I think, except that PB was a noodle with a face on or something (and not called PB), and I think it was Harry, not Sirius, and…something else. I'm not sure exactly how much of this is the same as that, and unfortunately, I can't check because I have NO BLOODY CLUE who wrote the original. Which is a bummer. So, if you're the author (or you know the story I'm talking about) put it into your review (subtle hinting) and then the other readers can go and check it out, then say things like 'yup, icefirelioness has no bloody idea what she's doing; this fic is about twenty five kabillion times better than hers. Seriously. What the hell is she even doing WRITING Fanfiction? She should stick to detention slips. Icefirelioness, you suck major balls.' Or something along the lines of that. And by the by, author of original fic (seriously, it is screwing with my brain that I can't remember who wrote it, because I know it was majorly funny), I sincerely apologise for making your idea into something so pathetic. Sorry. I hope you can forgive me. Love, icefirelioness


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